


Rivers

by indigospacehopper



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Body Positivity, F/F, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Femlock, Fluff, Summer, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:51:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigospacehopper/pseuds/indigospacehopper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When John had originally bought the soft pink Polaroid camera, Sherlock had scoffed. According to her, John was simply trying to blend in. John decided not to point out that as an 18 year old girl, it was perfectly acceptable for her to follow the reprised teenage trends. The moment it had come in the post she'd immediately become latched onto it, which is how she came to be standing a short way down the stream from Sherlock, peering through the lens and smiling at a rather magnificent view. </p>
<p>If Sherlock decided that the camera was simply a fashion trend, then so be it. It wasn't going to change the fact that most of the pictures John had taken were of her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this has come from, but after a new found love for femlock, I think my 6 month bout of writer's block is about over. So if you could let me know what you think, then that would be amazing. Thank you!
> 
> \- indigospacehopper x

In all John’s life, she'd never seen such a picturesque and summery scene. Even when she was a child and everything was exaggerated to its absolute best, she couldn't recall seeing a sight she adored as much as this one. 

It was more exciting than when she was five and her mum had bought her the most gigantic triple chocolate chip and strawberry ice cream, complete with rainbow sprinkles and two flakes. It was more exhilarating than when she was in year 10 and had thrown the javelin 19 metres during PE. More relaxing than baths; more peaceful than swimming alone in the depths of an empty pool. The happiness she felt in her current moment was better than winning every netball game of the season. 

She felt liberated, and it was all because of the figure in front of her.

Two tall glass bottles sat perched on the river cliff; the golden cider inside sparkled in the sun as the soft bubbles rose to the surface. The sunlight filtered through and refracted onto the freshly cut grass that swayed gently in the summer breeze. The light created flickering white shadows that danced on the blades, completely relaxed in the midday heat. One bottle was already half empty, but the other hadn’t even been opened yet. John sighed, making a mental note to put it in the stream until Sherlock was ready to drink it.

She'd only complain when it was too warm.

When John had originally bought the soft pink Polaroid camera, Sherlock had scoffed. According to her, John was simply trying to blend in. John decided not to point out that as an 18 year old girl, it was perfectly acceptable for her to follow the reprised teenage trends. The moment it had come in the post she'd immediately become latched onto it, which is how she came to be standing a short way down the stream from Sherlock, peering through the lens and smiling at a rather magnificent view. 

If Sherlock decided that the camera was simply a fashion trend, then so be it. It wasn't going to change the fact that most of the pictures John had taken were of her.

The cool water of the stream ran past John’s ankles and she wriggled her toes as she looked down, taking a quick picture of the way the water curved around her legs. With the cloudless sky and the searing sun beating down on their date, John was thankful for the coolness of the stream. It ran past smoothly, gliding past her legs and babbling away merrily to itself. 

Yet despite the tranquility of the day, she still felt a bit odd. Her legs were never her strongest feature; the way her thighs shook when she walked caused her no end of humiliation; she’d always avoided showing off her strong, unwomanly calves. Then Sherlock had happened, and everything had changed.

It was no understatement to say that Sherlock loved John’s legs. The taller teenager loved burying her face into the inside of John’s thigh and blowing raspberries, making John gasp and giggle; her cheeks would flush, and Sherlock tell her that the pink in her cheeks was the prettiest colour. She'd kiss each stretch mark, each mole and each insecurity that John had, holding her hand the whole time and telling her how much she was loved.

That was why John had found herself wearing shorts, because Sherlock made her feel better. They were white with a brown belt, and with her khaki shirt she felt a bit like an explorer, which helped her confidence a lot.

You can do anything if you have the same mindset as Indiana Jones.

When the picture came out, she stuffed it into her shoulder bag, grinning. 

“Sherlock, love,” she called, paddling over to her taller girlfriend. 

Sherlock was crouching down in the centre of the river channel, bum almost touching the rippling current as rummaged around in the stream, turning over a pebble. Her dark brown hair glistened in the messy bun it was tied up in, and a smug grin settled across John’s face. She'd helped to wash Sherlock’s hair that morning.

"Hm?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from the pebbles as her eyes darted in every direction on the search for river life. John smiled fondly and crouched down, pecking her denim dungaree clad girlfriend's cheek in the process. 

"What're you looking for?" She asked, pressing the palms of her hands against the slippery pebbles and rocks in a bid to stable herself. "Experiment or just curious?"

Sherlock gave a non-committal hum in response, glancing up at John and offering her a smile before looking back down into the river. She snaked her arm around John's waist, planting her palm on her hip.

"See that?" Sherlock asked, pointing at a particularly angular pebble. John squinted, and Sherlock pulled her closer by the waist so that their heads were touching. "That one," she sighed, dipping her finger into the water as if it would help.

"Yes...?" John nodded, frowning slightly as she leaned forward in a feeble attempt to get closer to it. If she pretended to be amazed at Sherlock's spectacular find, then Sherlock would either call her bluff or expect her to know every topic of the one under question. Neither of these options were especially brilliant, so John opted instead for the truth.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" John turned to face Sherlock, who rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Sorry, Sherlock, but if I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at, then I can't..."

Sherlock sighed and pulled John closer by the hip, pointing again. "Right there."

Again, John squinted, but there really wasn't anything of significance. Shingle, a bit of green slimy stuff and a few rounded pebbles. The angular one was still lying there, but John really couldn't see the significance. She sighed and bent down, trying to get a better look. 

"Urm...." She began, taking off her bag and throwing it into the river bank to join the cider. Sherlock watched her eagerly. "Rocks are eroded as they're taken downstream?" She guessed, and Sherlock nodded slowly. John bristled slightly, pleased she'd managed to get something right. "But this rock is not as rounded as the others, meaning that it doesn't belong to this section of the river? So someone's moved it? I don't know, Sherlock, I do Biology, English and History, you know I don't do Geography. I haven't done it since GCSE..."

Her face was almost level with the water when Sherlock suddenly pushed her whole hand in, flicking the water up into John's face and cackling madly as John spluttered.

"You shit!" John yelled, grinning as she wiped away her now streaming mascara. Sherlock merely chuckled, still squatting in the stream and beaming toothily at John. John glared at her, but was unable to keep herself from giggling. "You're a complete and utter cock, you know that, don't you?" She chastised, before launching herself at Sherlock.

Sherlock yelped and lost her balance, falling backwards into the stream as John tumbled with her. John's firm, small hands were pressed against Sherlock's bony shoulders, and both girl laughed heartily, the water breaking around Sherlock's hair as she sprawled out. 

The stream really wasn't that deep. Five centimetres in depth in the centre was the absolutely maximum, but somehow both Sherlock and John ended up dripping wet, clinging onto one another as the ice cold water spilled down the back of Sherlock's plain white t-shirt, making her yelp. John grinned, hovering above her. 

"It's not nice, is it?" She beamed, and Sherlock quickly shook her head. John watched as the water soaked through Sherlock's dungarees; creating a dark patch of blue against the rest of the denim. "Cold, isn't it?" She continued, and Sherlock wriggled around madly. John would have thought she was distressed if she didn't know better. 

"You know it's bloody cold, John," Sherlock whined, unable to shake off the stupid grin that had worked its way onto her face. "Get off me before I throw you in, too."

John arched an eyebrow, wiping away her running eyeliner with her thumb, before placing her hand back on Sherlock's shoulder. 

"Is that a threat?" John challenged, and Sherlock's grin broadened. 

"Yes," Sherlock nodded, but before John had chance to comply Sherlock had turned them both over, and John was screaming as the water pooled down her back. A short way down the path, an elderly hiking couple exchanged disapproving looks. 

"You're an idiot," John told Sherlock matter-of-factly after she'd calm down. Her statement earned her a simple shrug. "And your lipstick looks really cute today. Is it new?"

Sherlock leaned back and traced her thumb over her bottom lip. "I thought I'd give it a go," she mused aloud, just as John sat up and pulled Sherlock onto her lap. 

"Well, it looks beautiful," John smiled. "And you look beautiful, wet back and all." At that, Sherlock smiled, wrapping her legs around John's middle. "So stunning," John continued, carefully reaching round and gently pulling Sherlock's hair out of the bun. Sherlock's cheeks burned pink, and she quickly pecked John's lips.

"You're one to talk," Sherlock grinned, and John smiled happily, wrapping Sherlock's hair bobble around her wrist; pecking the corner of Sherlock's mouth in return. 

Sherlock's arms snaked around John's waist, smiling fondly at her. At the same time, John reached up and ruffled her hand through the back of Sherlock's wet hair, watching in awe as it immediately started to curl up again, drying quickly in the hot August sun. 

"You're so beautiful," John sighed quietly, looking at her in complete awe as she tucked a lone strand of hair behind Sherlock's ear. "Did you know that?" 

"You've mentioned it once or twice," Sherlock replied, ever with the air of ignorance. John rolled her eyes, before planting her lips against Sherlock's and kissing her softly. 

The taller teenager's eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, exhaling out steadily through her nose before she kissed back, humming quietly to herself.

John smiled, deciding that this was definitely better than all the previous summers she'd been a part in.


End file.
